


There Was Only Ever You

by j_gabrielle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Slight OOC, battlefield injuries, how does anyone tag these things?, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wanted to tell you that I’ve… That you were the only one, only ever one. There was never any room for anyone else."</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Was Only Ever You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daleked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daleked/gifts).



> For my beautiful darling Tacroy <333

Davos threw the remnants of his cigarette into the dark waves of the bay, his pack leaning heavy against his calf. The ancient ferry trudges on ever slowly into dock, and his fellow passengers were all huddled into themselves against the chill of the drizzle and spray of the water from the side. A fog was creeping over the landscape, but Davros keeps his eyes on the horizon. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that this was England once more.

Five years, four months, two days, eighteen hours, six minutes.

When he left, it was a warm August afternoon and the village was receiving the summer revellers from the mainland. Happiness was in the air. Summer tourists were always the source of revenue for most of the island, and when the season passed the village was nothing more than a sleepy hamlet. The sun was beating on his back, and while everyone sought the shade as they boarded the ferry, Davos stayed out and watched as that little island sunk further back into the horizon, watching as his sons cried for him and his wife waved him goodbye. Waiting for that one person he wants to see there the most.

He doesn’t have any family left here; Marya petitioned the court for full custody of their sons and Davos did not fight it. He reckons that he owes her that much. They were happier apart anyways, and somehow they’d always known that they were better as parents and friends, than married and lovers. He is honestly happy that Marya has found her happiness in the southern shores of Spain with someone new. They were getting married next summer, and apparently he was invited.

“Watch your step!” The harbour master cautioned. Davos pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, hiding his face. Casually, he swung his pack over his right shoulder, taking care to keep his bandaged left hand in his pocket.

Nothing has changed much, and he is quietly glad for it. It is as if someone took a picture of the village and preserved it in a picture frame; untouched and unmarked by time. The rest of the passengers on the ferry make their way into the pub, picking their way to their families and homes dotted all over the island. Davos wonders if his old place up on the cliff was still there, if he-

No. _He_ couldn’t still be there.

Shaking his head for a moment, he exhales and looks around him. The rain was picking up, and the sky was starting to darken like it was wont to do at this time of the year. Davos spots a couple of youngsters coming out of the only bookstore on the island. Renly was amongst them, older than when he had last seen him, but his warm laugh and happy charm was still the same. He ducks his head and gets on the path that will bring him to the cliff.

He is halfway through the wooded path when doubt begins to sink in. Perhaps coming here wasn’t a good idea after all. Sal had offered him his flat in London to stay in until he got everything sorted out, and Marya had actually asked him to visit them. But instead, he came straight here after his plane touched down at Heathrow. In this miserable rain soaked island that sees a total of a month’s sunshine out of the year.

Davos is about to turn back, to beg the ferry to take him away, to leave and never come back when he hears him.

“Davos.” His name spoken softly from behind him, he feels his feet leaden and fastened to the ground.

Slowly, he turns around, the gravel crunching as he moves. “Hello Stannis.”

“Davos.” Stannis repeats. For a long while the rain drops in the trees was the only song between them. “Renly called me. He said… He told me he saw you.” Davos smiles despite himself. Trust the youngest Baratheon, the one seemingly unaware of the reality around him to be the most observant of the lot.

“Aye, that he did.” Davos chances a look at Stannis, and it almost stops his heart.

Crows feet etch their home in the corners of his eyes, lips still disapprovingly thin. If he had been years younger, if he had not already known all the dark corners of Stannis’ mind, he would have thought his haughty and prideful. There’s a flush on his cheeks, and he sounds a little out of breath. Apparently time has not lessened the ache he feels whenever he thinks of Stannis Baratheon; an ache that sees fit to return thrice-fold and steal his breath away.

He must look a fool, standing there like a drowned rat and slightly agape, blushing like a boy of thirteen again. The awkwardness of youth never truly leaves you. Stannis clears his throat and gestures him along. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

His old cottage was still there. It was weather-worn, in need of decent new paintwork, but still standing. The swing he had built when his second son was born was born was still there, so was the wooden fences, the creaky old gate.

“You kept everything the same.” He wonders out loud when he steps into the house, still shouldering the pack. The scratching of his sons’ growing heights on the door post is still here, though faded.

Stannis quirks an eyebrow, “Stop dripping all over the carpet.” Is all he says when he relieves Davos of his pack and walks towards the rooms, not before throwing him a kitchen towel.

“I wasn’t quite sure what to think when I got your letter.” Davos admits when he returns. The wind was howling outside, rattling the shutters. “I didn’t think--”

“That I would want to see you again?” Stannis finishes, moving to put the kettle on. He doesn’t look at him, and although he has divested his jacket in the mudroom, Davos has not made any effort to bring any attention to his left hand.

Davos stands by the counter, watching the war that goes on in Stannis’ mind. “Did you think I wouldn’t care?” The question has been replayed in his mind over and over again, and Davos has been prepared for all the possible answers save the one. “Did you honestly think that just because I did not write that I would forget you? That I am a heartless bastard like everyone says me to be? Is that the kind of man you think I am?”

“You never gave me any indication that you thought of me as anything more than a companion, a friend at a stretch.” Davos stared as the tense line of Stannis’ shoulders slump. He remembered waking up in the field hospital. A bomb, they said. Sorry about your fingers, they said. We’ll get you the best care, they said. Your Queen and country are proud of your sacrifice, they said.

The loud clang was deafening in the little space they were in. “And so what?” Stannis whirled around, eyes red rimmed and bright. Angry. “So you join the army? S-So you leave to get yourself _killed_?! Just because I never told you that I love you? That I felt the same—that I’ve always loved you? Of how I envied Marya that she could give you children and I couldn’t? About the _pain_ I felt watching you marry someone who wasn’t me? That’s not an excuse, you idiot!”

Stannis was always beautiful, especially in anger. This was no different, although watching him rage has made the ache in his chest bubble. Instinctively, he strides towards Stannis, pulling him into his arms. Davos closes his eyes, breathing in the warmth and scent of the man who has always held his heart at the palm of his hands. Holding him this way feels right, feels complete in a way he has forgotten how.

“Every single time the phone rang, or the postman came, or a new ship docked in the ferry, I always thought to myself that this would be the day. This would be the day someone comes to tell me you were dead. Or missing.” A broken sob, “I never quite knew which nightmare I’d prefer; the one about living in a world without you, or the one that you were somewhere without a way home. Without a way back to me.”

Gently, he pushed himself away from Davos. Stannis reaches out to take his broken hand, touching it reverently. “When Marya called me and told me that you’d been injured, I wanted to cry. I was so relieved to hear that all you lost was your fingers, so relieved that you could still come back.” He swallowed, “I wrote… I wrote that letter because I needed to know that I still had a chance.”

Davos reached up, placing a hand on the side of Stannis’ face, smiling when he leans into his touch. “I left because I could see how much I was hurting you. I knew you were capable of happiness, Stannis. And it was selfish of me, but I wanted you to be happy.” He stroked a thumb over his eye, “When Marya sent those divorce papers over, all I wanted was to be off the battlefield and back here with you. I wanted to care less then. I wanted to tell you that I’ve… That you were the only one, only ever one. There was never any room for anyone else.”

A feather light touch over the surface of his dressing makes him pause. “I was happy. I am happy. And you don’t get to decide what makes me happy, do you understand?” He sighs, “I stayed here, in this house and on this island not because I want to. I stayed because I live with your ghosts. This house, these lands, you’re everywhere.”

Davos struggles to remember how to breathe. “I’m a broken man, Stannis. I’m old. I won’t be much good.”

“That’s okay.” The other man whispers, pressing a kiss to his bandaged knuckle. “Just as long as I can chain you to me, it’s all okay.”

“Stannis.” He brings their foreheads together. “We’ve been right idiots, haven’t we?”

Stannis chuckles, “Too right we have been. You have 5 years to make up to me for.”

“And how do you propose we start?”

There is a bright gleam to Stannis’ eyes. “For one, taking off your clothes and following me to our bedroom.”

Tenderly, he brings their lips to touch. “Our bedroom you say?”

“I threw out your old mattress. This one will survive anything we put it up against.” Stannis smiles.

“Let’s see about that.”

 

[fin.]

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely self-indulgent writing. Sorry for the OOC-ness.


End file.
